Heal My Hurt
by hamaell
Summary: I just want him to say that he loves me, too. It doesn’t matter if he means it or not. I just want him to say it." One-shot, Light's point of view. Not a happy ending. Rated M for a reason.


**Author's Note:**

First of all, I'd like to apologize for my extreme lack of updates. I cannot believe the time it took for me to write this. Seriously ._.

So, now that that's over with, let's continue.

This is written from Light's point of view, just so you know. It takes place during the time when L and Light is handcuffed to each other, but Light knows that he is Kira. Oh, and Light is probably a bit out of character here. Sorry about that..

Comments and constructive criticism are _much_ appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Death Note or any of its characters, and I never will. This is purely fan-made, with no intentions what-so-ever to claim owner-rights of the original series.

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When I open my eyes and stare up at the dark ceiling, I am much disorientated at first. My eyes widen and I gasp when I realize that I don't know where I am or how I got there. Panic is racing through my veins and my hands balls into fists, gripping the sheets underneath me desperately, but the feeling of the soft bedding sliding between my tense fingers calms me down. Everything suddenly makes sense and I recognise the cream-colored bedroom walls, barely visible through the darkness, and I unclench my hands. I am slightly embarrassed by my pathetic reactions. I title my head to the side and my eyes find the numbers shining red on the alarm-clock. It reads 03.07. It's three o'clock in the fucking morning, and I have absolutely no idea why I'm awake. I sigh, inhale and exhale loudly trough my nose, closing my eyes as I do so. It irritates me to no end how when given the opportunity to give my body and brain some well deserved rest, I can't seem to sleep through the night. When I open my eyes again, I find myself looking directly out the window. Moonlight is flooding through the double glass, giving everything a bluish hue. The moon looks enormous, it's glowing surface much too close to my lying position in the bed for my liking. But that is to be expected I suppose, with me being on the very top floor of the building I'm currently living in.

I sigh again, not sure if it's out of irritation or exhaustion. I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but I can't. I just simply can't. I frown and sit up, placing both of my hands behind my back to keep the balance. I really don't want to be awake at this hour, but apparently, there's nothing much I can do about it. Suddenly, I feel a tingling in my fingers. I lift my hand one at a time and flex my fingers to get rid of it, assuming that the feeling was caused by the blood not being able to reach my fingertips. But the feeling doesn't go away. I sit up more properly, bringing my hands in front of my face. I examine them closely, but I can't find anything that would be responsible for the unpleasant tingling. But as soon as I acknowledge that there actually _is_ a feeling there, it spreads. It crawls up my arms, then down my sides, across my legs and all the way out to my toes. The tingling becomes itching, and I use my nails to scratch my skin, leaving red marks. Then the itching disappears, and I lower my hands, relieved. But then it starts to hurt. It feels like electric shocks are being sent through my body, sudden pangs of pain blooming up all over me. I gasp in shock, bring my knees up to my stomach and wrap my arms around them, burying my face between them. The pain is so intense. It floods within me without mercy, and without any intensions to stop. I breathe harshly, whimpering trough my clenched teeth. It suddenly withdraws from my fingers and my toes and my arms and my legs, rushing up to my brain. I bring my hands to my temples and I tear at my hair and I scream bloody murder. It hurts like _holy fuck_. My eyes are squeezed shut as I wail in pain and I don't realise that he is looking at me before he opens his moth and speak.

'Is something the matter, Light-kun?'

His indifferent voice doesn't contain any concern. I know that he is only asking to be polite, and he doesn't really care whether or not something is the matter with me. But he is talking to me, nevertheless, and right now his emotionless voice is like a drug I'm all-too-willing to get addicted to. It seeps through the pain and gives me a second to rest, but as soon as he stops talking, the pain is back.

'Hurts.. Why.. I don't..' I can't form a whole sentence, the pain is too much, but I manage to get a few words out through my teeth with a strangled hiss. I try to look at him, but white lights are disturbing my sight as the headache roams around my skull, painful enough to make my stomach cringe in nausea.

'Hurts where, Light-kun?

He's being polite again, and somehow I think I see a smile tug at his lips. But then, I might be imagining. It wouldn't be surprising at all, considering I can't see anything clearly at the moment.

'Head..' I choke out, gripping tighter around my cranium with both of my hands. I feel my stomach twist. I can't handle this. I can not handle this! I lean over the side of the bed and my body heaves uncontrollably as I vomit − the remains of the pathetic excuse for a dinner I managed to shove down my throat before going to bed leaving my body without resistance. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as I try to calm my breathing. The pain is still there, though, and the vomiting did nothing apart from leaving me with an empty stomach and a burning throat.

'Light-kun knows why his head hurts, doesn't he?' he says, studying me as I slowly sit up again. I most definitely imagined him smile, there is no sign of humour in his pale face or dark eyes now.

'No, I don't.'

He stares at me, as if he's trying to see if I'm bluffing. I look at him and refuse to avert my gaze. The pain is intensifying and I can hardly make out his face anymore, but I won't let him know how weak I am. He's seen enough of that, already.

'It's your conscience, Light-kun,' he says offhandedly, waving his hand at my direction. The chain connecting the two of us rattles as he moves, but I'm in too much pain to feel irritated about the fact that he doesn't trust me enough to take it of, even though he has no proof that could possible allow him to keep me under his constant watch anymore. Instead I just look at him, letting confusion colour my features. I might be in pain, but I'll be damned if I give him another reason to suspect me. 'Your actions are finally starting to catch up with you,' he says, now frowning slightly, 'and now you conscience is punishing you.'

'Punishing me for what?' My question is supposed to sound bewildered, but it comes out as a shaky whimper, the pain now starting to get the best of me. I clench my jaw and bite my tongue to prevent another humiliating noise to escape.

His face darkens. 'You are Kira, Light-kun,' he says, looking me straight in the eye as he do so. At that moment my body decides to vomit again, and I lean over the edge of the bed for the second time. There's nothing left for me to get rid of though, and I make a gagging sound as my body continues to lurch without success.

'Oh dear _God_..' I mumble and inhale shakily. The foul smell of vomit fills my nostrils and I wince. I turn my head, as carefully as I can, and look at him again. His sitting with his knees close to his chest, thumb placed between his lips as he observes me.

I sigh impatiently, and wince again as pain explodes inside my head. But now when the first shock of the pain being so intense is gone, I can form a proper sentence. 'How many times do I have to tell you, Ryuzaki? I'm not Ki-'

'Yes, Light-kun, you are.' He is absolutely sure about it, and he won't let me deny it. He never does. If I weren't ready to pass out, I would have cursed. Why is it that he is the _only_ one whom I can't fool?

'Whatever,' I whisper, and give up. I can't take this anymore. I lie down and curl myself into foetal position, hands still cradling my sore head. He doesn't answer. I feel tears starting to drip down my cheeks, but I can't bring myself to wipe them away. To hell with pride and good acting-skills; the pain is the only thing I can think about now.

'Light-kun looks very uncomfortable', he remarks. I don't answer him. I don't even open my eyes to glare at him. There is silence. There is horrible pain. There is a few seconds of bliss as he speaks again.

'Can I get you anything, Light-kun…'

'Keep talking,' I mumble, eyes still shut.

'… anything at all? I'm pretty sure Watari could bring up some aspirins, or maybe a slice of cake, if you want. There should be some left from the chocolate cake I had before, or maybe Light-kun prefers vanilla..' he trails of.

'Just keep talking.'

'What does Light-kun wish for me to talk about?'

'Everything. Anything. I don't care, just keep talking.' I desperately need him to speak. The pain simply refuses to go away and it hurts so bad I don't know what to do anymore. Holding my head with my hands didn't work, vomiting didn't work, and crying definitely doesn't make things any better.

He says something, but all I hear is a low murmur, since he's speaking so quietly.

'Can't.. Can't hear you..' The tears are falling more frequently, I squeeze my eyes shut and it only hurts more. A low sob escapes me, and that's all that it takes. I start crying, softly at first, but soon my whole body is shaking and I'm screaming. My eyes are forced open, and through my tears I see him. He looks frightened, and.. Lost. His face is caught in a worried frown and it seems like he doesn't know what to do. Hesitantly, he raises his hand. Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out and he touches my face with his fingertips. Bony fingers wipe away my tears and I close my eyes. His touch feels so good. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it dulls it slightly. My scream fades out, and is replaced by sobs and whimpers. But when I stop crying, his cold hand is gone.

The pain is back as soon as his fingers leave my skin.

One of my hands lashes out and grabs his wrist on its own accord. I yank his hand forward to my face, pressing it to my cheek. If I thought that the sound of his voice was a drug, I have no idea what to call the calming of my pain as his hand rests on my face. I lean into his touch, pressing his fingers so hard against me that I think I might break them. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't do anything. He looks at me though, but his expressionless eyes give nothing away.

The smell of his skin is intoxicating. My other hand leaves my skull, and search for his other hand. When I find it, I grip it and bring it to my other cheek. Now both his hands are cradling my face, and the pain is not so bad anymore. But it's bad enough. I lean closer to him, carefully shuffling over to his side of the bed until I'm lying next to him. I rest my head on his hip, but it's not close enough. The pain is returning, and it seems as if as soon as I find something that will ease the pain, it stops working. I need to be closer to him.

'Ryuzaki..' I whisper, my voice small and fragile. 'Could you please.. Lie down?'

'Why does Light-kun wish for me to lie down?' He doesn't look at me when he's speaking, just staring straight forward into the wall.

'I need you to..'

He doesn't move.

'Please..?'

No movement. I whimper and tug at his shirt, carefully at first but when he still doesn't show any intensions to move I grab a hold of the hem and I pull him down so that he's lying on his back next to me. I move up until my head is resting on his shoulder, close my eyes, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck; silken, raven locks caressing my eyelids. I inhale and I press my forehead to his throat. The skin-on-skin contact takes away the edge of the pain, but it's not enough to make it go away, or even dull it. I need more.

I press my body closer to his, wrapping my arm over his chest, hugging him close. I groan when it doesn't make the slightest difference. There can't be any clothes, I realise. I have to feel his skin. His skin is the cure. I sit up and I remove my shirt, then I place my hands on his stomach, trying to make eye contact.

'Can I.. Do you mind?' He doesn't answer. He's just staring at the ceiling, seeming fascinated by the white paint.

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just keeps staring. I sigh impatiently and curl my finders around the edge of his shirt. I lift it up slowly, testing to see if it's alright. No reaction. When the shirt is resting just underneath his armpits, I lean forward and I lift his arms up until they're above his head. I proceed with the removal of the clothing, and soon his shirt is hanging next to mine on the chain connecting us.

I lay back down, relishing in the feeling of his naked chest pressed to mine. His skin is pale, and it contrast nicely to my own golden tanned arm as it's once again draped across his chest. I rest my head on his shoulder again, and I breathe in the sweet smell if his hair.

We lie like that for a couple of minutes, and my breathing slows as the pain decreases slightly. But of course, that's not good enough. I can feel how the pain is starting to build up again, and I whimper. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't move when my grip around him tightens in fear. I desperately try to think of something that will keep the pain away for just a little bit longer. I don't want to deal with it. I can't deal with it. Not yet. As I glance down my gaze locks on the jeans he is wearing. I only sleep in a t-shirt and my boxers, but since he very rarely sleeps, he usually sits on the bed next to me working on the case, fully dressed.

I look back at his face. He is still not looking at me, but at the ceiling above our heads. His dark eyes convey nothing of what he is thinking. I hesitantly reach my hand down to the edge of his jeans, but I stop there. I try to make out some kind of reaction from his emotionless face, but there is nothing.

'Ryuzaki..'

I wait for him to answer, but he remains silent, just as before. I am getting nervous now, the pain is slowly increasing and I know that it won't be long until I'm screaming again. I sit up, and pull down his zipper. When he still doesn't say anything, I simply continue removing the stiff clothing. When they're off, I drop the jeans on the floor. I lie back down, carefully snuggling up to his side and tangle my legs with his. Now _that_ is better. I sigh in relief as the pain starts to decrease. Even though it's still very uncomfortable, I prefer the throbbing rather than the explosion.

Suddenly I am aware of the need that is building in my body and I blush. The smell of his hair, his smooth skin.. He's too close, but still not close enough. I know what I need. I know what it is that will make the pain go away completely. I also know that I shouldn't do it, but that I will anyway. It's one of the faults of mine - I am a very selfish creature.

I press my lips to his throat, the part of his body which is closest to me since my head is resting on his shoulder. I raise myself on my elbow, and I plant a trail of soft kisses up his neck, along his jaw, and to the corner of his mouth. I stop there, uncertain if I should continue.

His face is blank. I lean down until my lips are mere centimetres from his. I can feel his breath ghost over my face, and I wait. I wait for him to do something. I wait for him to push me away or close the gap between us. I wait for him to react, but he doesn't.

So I do. I press my lips to his. Carefully at first, but as I feel the smooth skin of his lips on mine my need grows and I feel myself starting to lose whatever self control I have left. I move so that I am hovering above him, my elbows resting on either side of his head and my fingers knotting themselves in his hair. His lips are still under mine, they don't respond to my kisses. I keep kissing him though, even if he's not moving. I need this so badly.

I grind my hips against his and I moan into the kiss as my painfully growing erection gets the friction it so desperately craves. I dip my head down and I bite his neck, repeating the action and moaning again. I can taste iron in my mouth and I know that I bit down hard enough on his sensitive skin to draw blood. I stick my tongue out and I lap at the wound, mumbling something that is supposed to be an apology. I lift my head and kiss his lips softly again, then I start to move down, placing butterfly kisses on every spot of his body that I can reach. I was planning to do this slowly, but the pain is growing again and I know that there is not much time left.

When I reach his hips, I place a kiss on both of the sharp bones before I pull down his boxers and toss them aside. I look at him again, but he is still not responding. I know that he knows what is going to happen next. He would be an idiot if he didn't, and he is most definitely _not_ an idiot. He doesn't seem to care, though. He's simply lying beneath me, doesn't push me away but neither does he allow me to do what I'm doing.

I stick my tongue out, and I slowly, slowly, lick his growing erection. When I reach the top, I open my mouth and lower my head until the top hits the back of my throat. I start to bob my head up and down, slow movements that first but as I feel him hardening I grow more enthusiastic and my speed increases. I start to believe that he will finally respond.

But he doesn't. Of course not. He is still looking at that bloody ceiling, still not making any sound of either approval or disapproval. He's breathing hasn't even changed. But I know that he is enjoying this - the organ pulsating in my mouth is proof of that.

So I continue. I continue with what I'm doing, and I can feel myself hardening when he does. And when I can taste pre-cum, I moan. My boxers seem to have shrunk, and they are extremely uncomfortable. I press my tongue against the head one more time, before I raise my head, and I look at him from under my fringe. He's breathing softly, the rising of his chest barely visible in the dark. His unruly, dark hair lies like a halo around his pale face, his dark eyes are staring into the distance without seeming to see anything at all, and his delicate hands are resting palms up on the bed sheets on either side of his torso. The revelation makes my heart ache. He's so beautiful.

I sit up properly and remove my boxers. The cold air hugs my erection, and I shudder as goose bumps forms on my skin. I do my best to ignore it, and instead I reach over and carefully place three fingers on his lips. But he's not cooperating, and he's not opening his mouth. He keeps staring at nothing.

I believe that I should feel rejected, that I should stop what I'm doing and _not_ take things any further. But I don't care. There is no stopping my actions now. My blood is on fire and I need this more than I ever needed anything before in my whole life. So I simply remove my fingers from his lips and place them in my on mouth, coat them with my own saliva. It's sloppy because I'm so impatient, and I can feel spittle dripping down my chin, mixing with the salty pre-cum from before.

When I decide that my fingers are slick enough, I remove them from my mouth. I use my dry hand and move his thighs further apart, and I shudder again when I glace over the naked body sprawled out in front of me.

He's so beautiful.

I place my index finger at his entrance, and I push it in as slowly as I can. Once it's in, I draw it back out, and then push it in again. I repeat the action a few times, and then I add a second finger. Push them in, draw them back out. Push them in, draw them back out. I start to scissor them, stretching him. All the time I keep a close eye on his facial expression. Any sign of pain, disapproval or disgust and I'll stop. But I can't make out what he's thinking. His face is as emotionless as ever.

I add a third finger, stretching him even more. Push them in, draw them back out. Scissor them. Push them in, draw them back out. Repeat. I don't want him to hurt.

My needs are growing stronger by the second, along with the pain in the back of my head. There is not enough time for this, I realise, and I remove my fingers even though I know he probably needs more preparation. I grab his hips and lift him up slightly, I move closer and I push the top of my erection into him. I try to convince myself that I'll do this slowly and carefully, and I push forward again until I'm all the way in.

I'm inside of him. I'm inside of him, and all trails of thoughts suddenly disappear.

Everything is feeling. Everything is pleasure. Everything is on fire. My pulse is in my crotch and I can't think. I lean over him and place my elbows beside his head again and I start to roll my hips, I grind into him and I moan loudly. The feeling of his walls clamping down on me is so good I almost start crying with relief.

I reach one of my hands down and I get a hold of his erection. It's warm and alive in my hand, and I rub it. I rub his hardness and I rock my hips and my vision is blurring. Suddenly the organ in my hands jerks and he comes. His breathing doesn't hitch and not a sounds escapes from his lips, but he's muscles are tightening around my member and it's enough to drive me over the edge. I'm vaguely aware of the heat coiling in my groin and his name escapes my lips in a breathy whisper before my world explodes in a thousand stars and I come inside him.

When I come down to earth again, I realise that I've collapsed on top of him. I raise myself on my shaky arms and I pull out of him. Then I roll over, and stare at the ceiling just like him. My breathing slows and I regain my ability to think, and I stare at the ceiling, waiting for him to speak. The minutes drag on and I get nervous. I turn to my side and I snuggle up against him again.

'I'm.. I'm so sorry, Ryuzaki..'

He doesn't answer.

I hug him tight and I blush. I feel so stupid. But not even shame can stop the liberating feeling of relief that washes through me. The pain is gone. It's gone, and it's not coming back.

'I'm so sorry..'

I kiss his cheek, and then I rest my head on his shoulder again. I lift my hand and I follow the contours of his face and let my thoughts drift.

'I love you.'

I don't know why I said it. The words escaped my lips and were out of my mouth before I even had a chance to stop them. He makes a humming sound and his brow furrows slightly.

'Murderer's can't love, Light-kun.'

'I'm not a murderer. I love you'

I just want him to say that he loves me, too. It doesn't matter if he means it or not. I just want him to say it. I _need_ him to say it. And I know that he knows that. Although my sexual needs have been satisfied, my craving for affection hasn't, and he's aware of it. He's the only one who can satisfy both of them. And he knows that, too.

'You are. Murderers can't love. You're incapable of love, Light-kun.'

'I am capable of loving. I'm not a murderer. I love you, Ryuzaki. I love you.'

'I could never love a murderer, Kira.'


End file.
